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      Craving something a little longer? Find more historical romantic adventure from 'Mills & Boon at www.millsandboon.co.uk or your local bookstore.

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      About the Author

      MICHELLE WILLINGHAM grew up living in places all over the world, including Germany, England and Thailand. When her parents hauled her to antiques shows in manor houses and castles, Michelle entertained herself by making up stories and pondering whether she could afford a broadsword with her allowance.

      She graduated summa cum laude from the University of Notre Dame, with a degree in English, and received her master’s degree in Education from George Mason University. Currently she teaches American History and English. She lives in south-eastern Virginia with her husband and children. She still doesn’t have her broadsword.

      Author Note

      The tales of Scheherazade and the Arabian Nights were among my favorite fairy tales when I was growing up. I was intrigued by the exotic location, the handsome princes, and the ever-present danger within palace life. It inspired me to research the sixteenth century Ottoman Empire, where I learned about the sultan Suleiman and the forbidden world of his harem. Many of the elements in “Innocent in the Harem” are based upon true stories.

      Although Prince Khadin was not a real historical character, I’ve taken creative license in giving Suleiman an additional son. During this era in history, the royal heirs were sent to distant corners of the kingdom to avoid jealousy (it wasn’t until later that they were imprisoned within the Cage in the palace). Also, what happened to Khadin as a child and the ultimate fate of his mother were based upon real life stories.

      I hope you enjoy this Arabian Nights fantasy, where a captive of the harem is rescued by a handsome prince and ultimately falls in love.

      With many thanks to Donna MacQuigg for her assistance and information regarding Arabian horses. Also, thank you to Michelle Styles for her photographs of the Topkapi Palace and for her research insights.

      Chapter One

       Ottoman Empire 1565

      Laila binte Nur Hamidah’s heartbeat shuddered within her chest as she stood beside the other women in the slave market. The heat of the sun sent a bead of perspiration sliding beneath the ferace that covered her body. Fear paralyzed her, but she held her posture straight. All she could do was watch the other women and await her turn upon the auction block.

      The air was a stifling blend of tobacco, spices and coffee, foreign odors that made her all-too-aware that she didn’t belong here. When the next young maiden was stripped and inspected, strangers touched the slave’s breasts and bottom, testing her skin for firmness. They examined her like a prized mare, fit for breeding. A hard lump formed in Laila’s throat. Was this to be her fate? Fondled and pinched by strangers, humiliated before everyone?

      Her vision swam, and she took a deep breath, trying to center herself. She tried to envision her father and brothers…the familiar black tents of the Bedouin camp. The lilting voice of her mother as she told stories that had been passed down for generations.

      No more. They were gone, killed in battle when a neighboring tribe had attacked. Laila had tried to flee, only to be captured by the enemy. And now, here she stood. Her appearance and her virginity had kept her value high, which was why her enslaver had left her untouched.

      With a light shove, she was forced to step upon the block of wood, a whip resting at her shoulder. “Do exactly as I tell you,” the slave merchant ordered. “If you are fortunate, you may be taken into a man’s harem to become a concubine. If you resist, you will feel the lash against your tender skin.” Callused hands tore the ferace away, exposing her to the crowd.

      Laila stared straight ahead, her teeth clenched. Ropes bound her wrists, and the crowd of men watched from below. She refused to cower before them, defeated. Regardless of this shame, she would survive it. The cold fear metamorphosed into a purpose—before she was handed over to a master, she might find a chance to escape.

      Her gaze fastened upon the Arabian mares tethered nearby. Their necks craned with unrest, their hooves pawing at the ground. These animals were not meant to be crowded, nor did they like it.

      If she could get close enough, she might be able to steal one of the horses and escape. There had to be a way to leave the marketplace. If she could only find it…

      A man, wearing black robes and a white turban around his head, rode forward, blocking off the mares. His wealth was evident from the stallion he rode and the rubies set within the horse’s bridle. Behind him, she spied a dozen guards, and she wondered who he was. A pasha or a lord, perhaps. She wondered what had caused him to stop. Noblemen rarely ventured within the marketplace.

      She met his gaze without shame, not bothering to feign a demure presence before him. Though she was completely unclothed, she refused to surrender her pride. By the grace of Allah, she intended to free herself from this nightmare or die trying.

      She ignored the hands reaching toward her and the lustful stares. Instead she remained focused upon the horses, determining which mare would obey her command. It would not be easy. Most Arabian horses were loyal to their masters; intelligent creatures who would balk at being taken. She had to find the right one.

      As the men continued to bid, the pasha rode closer, his gaze fixed upon her. Laila stared back, surprised to see such blue eyes shaded by his turban. His face was darkened by the sun, his jaw firm. His features held an exotic cast, like a man whose mother was a great beauty, perhaps a woman from Al Andalus or farther north. He rested his hands upon his saddle, absorbing the atmosphere and ignoring the merchants who dared to approach him, asking if he cared to bid for her.

      Laila met his curious expression, and then turned her attention back to the horses. The desperate need to escape consumed her. She would not be distracted by

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